When Right Began
by Tarafina
Summary: He was her ever patient, stubborn suitor, and she might just be giving in. Finally. :Chloe/Bart:


**Title**: When Right Began  
**Category**: Smallville  
**Rating**: T  
**Genre**: Romance/Humor  
**Pairing**: Chloe/Bart  
**Word Count**: 2,209  
**Summary**: He was her ever patient, stubborn suitor, and she might just be giving in. Finally.

**_When Right Began_**  
1/1

The breeze that flipped her hair upward and tickled her neck warned her of his arrival. As he leaned against her desk, one elbow propping him up, he angled his head sideways and gave her a smile that was all charm and hope. "Looking beautiful, as usual, Chloelicious."

She grinned, unable to help herself. "I try," she replied easily before fingering through the tall stack of papers in front of her.

His fingers were tucking stray blonde bangs behind her ear before she could even blink. "I think it's all natural for you."

She snorted indelicately. "You should see my bathroom then. Because beauty products don't come cheap and I spend too many of my checks on them."

His smile didn't dim, nor did he direct it elsewhere. "You get flustered when I compliment you..."

She flicked her eyes toward him and then away. "I'm only being honest, Impulse. You have me on a pedestal I don't deserve." She turned to walk away, sure that the conversation would end, but he was in front of her in a flash of ease. She came to a sudden stop, not so much surprised as slightly perturbed. "Are we going to have one of those talks about personal space again?" she asked, lifting a brow.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocked back on the heels of his red converse and then shrugged, bringing his shoulders up near his ears, where a grin was spread from one to the other. "You wouldn't mind so much if you just gave me a chance..."

She pressed a hand to his cheek, going for comfort rather than intimacy. But when he leaned his head into her open palm she felt a warmth fill her, clog her throat and make her heart tremor in a way she never expected from a boy like Bart Allen.

But then... he wasn't a _boy_ anymore, was he? He'd grown up a lot since playing Impulse for the League and while he still had that comedic character she enjoyed so much, he was older, both in looks and mentality. He wasn't so scrawny, but he wasn't built like the others with muscle overlapping muscle and a brawniness to them that left them looking like Greek gods. His body was more subtle, with a lean toned physique hidden beneath a boyish sense of style.

She may have looked, even admired some, but that didn't change the situation any. Bart had had a crush on her for longer than she could remember, but the boundaries were still there and she made sure nothing went past harmless flirting, despite his hints that more could happen, would happen, if she'd just let it.

"Impulse... Bart... I..." She shrugged, lifting her hands helplessly. "Why does it have to be any more than it is?"

He licked his lips, eyes turning away for just a fraction of a moment and then his face sobered, matured, and he looked more serious than she'd ever seen him before. "Because..." He was caressing her face quicker than she could take in, his fingers warm and delicate against her cheek, his forefinger stroking down the bridge of her nose affectionately, in a way that had a shiver sliding down her back. "We deserve a happy ending too, don't we? I may not be the average Prince Charming, but I'm yours whether you want me or not..."

She swallowed tightly, surprised by the emotion that welled up there.

Two years. Two years since Jimmy and Davis and everything with Clark. Two years since she got her life on track, the way she liked it, as Watchtower for the JL, where she felt right and comfortable and fit like a lost glove finding its proper hand. Surrounded by heroes, both in and out of costume, she never found a place that felt better. Her romantic life, however, was just as tumultuous as ever. With Clark and Lois finally dating and Oliver sniffing around Dinah, she found most of her time was either spent in her laptops silent company, batting off the psychos she seemed to lure in unknowingly, or Bart's always interesting and unexpected arrivals kept her on her toes.

He was lively and fun and despite how young he might come off, he had a sense of maturity to him that endeared her to him in ways she'd never expected. It came out most on the job; he didn't always just shrug off the bad and go on with life. He made a difference and it hurt when that didn't work out as planned. Defeat clouded his eyes some days and she knew, deep down, he wasn't sure he could handle the sorrow. But every day he donned the red and he got right back up to keep fighting. Just like how he was with her; no matter how many times she laughed it off, ignored his advances, he always came back to try again.

Her ever patient stubborn suitor.

"One date... Mexican, Thai, whatever you want... Maybe a movie if dinner goes well..." he suggested, his smile returning with its former warmth and sweet hope.

She chewed her lip, considered, really, for the first time. What was the harm? If anything, he might realize they weren't suited and if not... If not, then what? Then a second date? Maybe a third? Bart Allen and Chloe Sullivan, going steady?

"I'll pick you up at 7," he suddenly interrupted her thoughts, taking a slow step back, his feet jittery to get going.

She pursed her lips, partly out of amusement and partly because he'd just answered _for _her. "I didn't say yes."

He simply grinned, letting out a light chuckle. "Well, you didn't say no either."

She sighed, exasperated.

He rolled his eyes, still smiling. "Whether you decided or not, your eyes said yes."

Her brow wrinkled. "My eyes?"

He nodded, shrugging. "Can't argue with the window to your soul, _mamacita_."

She laughed, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you, Impulse?"

"With a little convincing, spend a long and happy lifetime with me." He grinned, winking, and then he was gone before she could snark back.

She found a smile curving her lips, wistful and not quite as resigned as she meant. It was just one date, she reminded herself. Any maybe afterwards, the pedestal would fade. Maybe then he wouldn't worship her, not after her knew her better, in a more intimate manner. So why did she feel a tug at her heart at the idea? Was it possible she liked being his one true affection? Was she actually _worried _that this one little date might change his view, might turn his heart away? And what would she be without Bart and his endless infatuation? Just single Chloe Sullivan again, no suitors, which was what she needed, wasn't it? So much of her life was chaos and problem solving, shouldn't her social life be less dramatic?

And what would Bart _do _for her social life?

What would a date entail with Bart Allen as the man she was out with? She couldn't imagine roses or wine, in fact she thought of wild flowers he picked up while running through a field in a far away country. Instead of wine there would be champagne that he enthusiastically popped open and then drank from the bottle, passing it to her as they sat on a mountain top nobody but he could get up with just his two feet and ambition. And they'd sit under the stars; he'd race back for a blanket when she shivered, back in seconds and happy to oblige. He'd sneak his arm around her, much less slyly than he'd think and she'd let him, because she'd fit there, comfortably.

And why, _why_, was it so easy to imagine that?

She spent an hour in her closet, debating, tossing, looking again, shaking her head, considering a headache or finding some other useless excuse that would wipe his smile from his face and leave him with a resigned but undefeated nod of his head. And he'd mope a few days, might even stop visiting for awhile, but he'd be back and he'd try again and maybe she'd say yes, maybe she'd say no, but she knew the game would go on. The problem was, did she want it to? Or did she want it to end now and find out for sure? Just what were they, Chloe and Bart? Watchtower and Impulse? Two lovers bound to come together, as Bart obviously thought. Or merely friends, one of which who would soon realize that was all they were meant for?

She chose the red dress, it was a little frilly at the bottom and cinched at the waist and it flattered her in ways that left her blushing slightly as she reexamined herself in the mirror. Too much? Too little? Maybe she should just wear jeans and a t-shirt. Bart was casual; he was comfortable and goofy and he probably wasn't expecting her to be decked out. And was she giving the wrong signal? Ugh! What was she doing? Why was she flustered? This was just _Bart_. Sweet, friendly, funny, Bart. _Impulse._ Her friend, her team mater, her... Her confidante and her pick-me-up and her always smiling, always endearing... _what_? What word best described him? Because there were moments where he was more than a friend but less than a lover and then others times where he felt closer to her then anybody else. When he touched her cheek that day, when he stroked her face like it was the most delicate of art...

There was a knock at the door, one that surprised her and had her guard motivated as most of the people she knew would simply breeze in. She was armed and sneaking toward the door on silent tip toes. She flicked the lock, opened the door, peeked through carefully and then let her gun arm fall to her hip. She sighed, slightly frustrated. "You _knocked_..." she exclaimed, both baffled and annoyed.

He simply grinned. "I'm early and somehow barging into my date's apartment seems rude..." He glanced at the gun, smirked, "And apparently dangerous."

She felt her cheeks heat but turned (hopefully) before he could see it. She replaced her magnum in a safe and easily accessible place and then slipped the thin strap of her purse over her shoulder. "It's not even six thirty, you know..." Her lips quirked.

Bart shrugged his shoulder, wiped one of his hands on his jeans and replied honestly, "I was anxious." Suddenly, he thrust an arm out and wild flowers were breathed in deeply from just beneath her nose. "They're not roses but-"

She grinned widely, her breath catching in her throat and suddenly her frayed nerves loosened. "Mexican," she interrupted.

"Huh?"

Taking the flowers, she walked toward her kitchen to get them a vase of water. "For dinner, we should have Mexican. And you can spout of all of your cheesy Spanish pick up lines."

"Classic, not cheesy," he called out good naturedly as she returned with the flowers to put on the table.

She simply smiled before stepping into the hallway where he waited with impatient feet. She closed and locked the door slowly, mostly because she enjoyed teasing him about his need to always be moving.

"Are we walking?" she wondered, dropping her keys inside her purse.

"I know a restaurant a few streets over or a better one that might take awhile on feet, it's up to you."

Hooking her arm in his, she nodded. "Then let's see just how fast those feet of yours are, cowboy."

He grinned slowly before wrapping his free arm around her and drawing her up against his side, tight. "Hold on," he murmured, his voice deep, intoxicating, sending her stomach in a fluttering frenzy.

He pressed a soft kiss to the end of her nose, his lips soft and light as a breeze. "Did I tell you how breathtaking you look?" Before she could even react, they were moving, so fast everything else became one colorful blur. She felt giddy, warm, _right_.

Maybe it was seconds, hours, but she felt like she was in Bart's arms for a lifetime spent in just a flash and she realized that she liked it. He was strong, steady, and he held on to her in a way that made her feel treasured. Maybe she hadn't paid attention before, maybe she'd ignored it, but whatever this was she had with him, whatever he was offering and she was finally beginning to take, it could be amazing.

She hadn't even sat down at the table for dinner when she knew something had shifted, changed, evolved, for the better. And she liked it, welcomed it, and couldn't wait for it to really start.

"Ready for this, 'licious?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as the menu was dropped in front of each of them.

With a soft smile, she gazed at him warmly. "Yeah... I think I finally am."

He looked up at her, understanding in his blue eyes and then he nodded, content she'd finally come around. Taking her hand in his, he examined his menu, and they simply _began_.


End file.
